THE MILLENNIUM.

BUT who shall see the glorious day,
When, throned on Zion's brow,
The Lord shall rend that veil away
Which blinds the nations now?
When earth no more beneath the fear
Of his rebuke shall lie;

When pain shall cease, and every tear
Be wiped from every eye?

Then, Judah! thou no more shalt mourn
Beneath the heathen's chain;

Thy days of splendor shall return,
And all be new again.

The fount of life shall then be quaff'd

In peace by all who come,

And every wind that blows shall waft
Some long-lost exile home.

HYMN TO THE STARS.

Ay, there ye shine, and there have shone,
In one eternal "hour of prime,"

Each rolling burningly, alone,

Through boundless space and countless time.

Ay, there ye shine! the golden dews

That pave the realms by seraphs trod;

There, through yon echoing vault, diffuse
The song of choral worlds to God.

Ye visible spirits! bright as erst

Young Eden's birthnight saw ye shine
On all her flowers and fountains first,

Yet sparkling from the hand divine;
Yes, bright as then ye smiled, to catch
The music of a sphere so fair,
Ye hold your high, immortal watch,
And gird your God's pavilion there.
Gold frets to dust,-yet there ye are ;
Time rots the diamond,—there ye roll
In primal light, as if each star

Enshrined an everlasting soul!

And does it not-since your bright throngs
One all-enlightening Spirit own,
Praised there by pure, sidereal tongues,
Eternal, glorious, blest, alone?

Could man but see what ye have seen,
Unfold awhile the shrouded past,

From all that is, to what has been,

The glance how rich! the range how vast! The birth of time, the rise, the fall

Of empires, myriads, ages flown,

Thrones, cities, tongues, arts, worships,—all The things whose echoes are not gone.

Ye saw rapt Zoroaster send

His soul into your mystic reign; Ye saw the adoring Sabian bend— The living hills his mighty fane! Beneath his blue and beaming sky,

He worshipped at your lofty shrine, And deemed he saw, with gifted eye, The Godhead in his works divine.

And there ye shine, as if to mock

The children of a mortal sire.

The storm, the bolt, the earthquake's shock,
The red volcano's cataract fire,

Drought, famine, plague, and blood, and flame,
All nature's ills,—and life's worse woes,—
Are nought to you ye smile the same,
And scorn alike their dawn and close.

Ay, there ye roll-emblems sublime

Of Him, whose spirit o'er us moves, Beyond the clouds of grief and crime,

Still shining on the world he loves :Nor is one scene to mortals given,

That more divides the soul and sod, Than yon proud heraldry of heaven— Yon burning blazonry of God!

HYMN FROM PSALM CXLVIII.

BEGIN, my soul, the exalted lay!
Let each enraptured thought obey,

And praise the Almighty's name.

Lo! heaven, and earth, and seas, and skies,
In one melodious concert rise,

To swell the inspiring theme.

Ye fields of light, celestial plains,
Where gay transporting beauty reigns,
Ye scenes divinely fair!

Your Maker's wondrous power proclaim!
Tell how he form'd your shining frame,
And breathed the fluid air.

Ye angels, catch the thrilling sound!
While all the adoring throngs around
His boundless mercy sing:

Let every listening saint above
Wake all the tuneful soul of love,
And touch the sweetest string.

Join, ye loud spheres, the vocal choir;
Thou dazzling orb of liquid fire,
The mighty chorus aid:

Soon as gray evening gilds the plain,
Thou moon, protract the melting strain,
And praise him in the shade.

Thou heaven of heavens, his vast abode,
Ye clouds, proclaim your forming God,
Who call'd yon worlds from night:
"Ye shades, dispel!"-the Eternal said;
At once the involving darkness fled,
And nature sprung to light.

Whate'er a blooming world contains,
That wings the air, that skims the plains,
United praise bestow;

Ye dragons, sound his awful name
To heaven aloud; and roar acclaim,
Ye swelling deeps below.

Let every element rejoice:

Ye thunders, burst with awful voice
To him who bids you roll;

His praise in softer notes declare,
Each whispering breeze of yielding air,
And breathe it to the soul.

To him, ye graceful cedars, bow;
Ye towering mountains, bending low,
Your great Creator own;

Tell, when affrighted nature shook,
How Sinai kindled at his look,

And trembled at his frown.

Ye flocks, that haunt the humble vale,
Ye insects, fluttering on the gale,
In mutual concourse rise;
Crop the gay rose's vermeil bloom,
And waft its spoils, a sweet perfume,
In incense to the skies.

Wake, all ye mounting tribes, and sing;
Ye blooming warblers of the spring,
Harmonious anthems raise

To him who shaped your finer mould,
Who tipp'd your glittering wings with gold,
And tuned your voice to praise.

Let man, by nobler passions sway'd,
The feeling heart, the judging head,
In heavenly praise employ ;
Spread the Creator's name around,

Till heaven's broad arch rings back the sound,
The general burst of joy.

Ye, whom the charms of grandeur please,

Nursed on the downy lap of ease,

Fall prostrate at his throne: